


i just want you for my own

by buries



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:29:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: you better kiss me, or face the mistletoe curse.or the one where barry and iris celebrate christmas with a tree and some mistletoe. written for westallenfun's secret santa, 2018.





	i just want you for my own

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for @sophisticatedloserchick for the @westallenfun secret santa on tumblr. i used the following prompts: being together for the holidays, shoveling snow, home for the holidays, and smut (the allusion to, in this case). this was written with them living in the loft in mind, but i haven't placed it any particular season/time in their marriage.
> 
> title is from mariah's _all i want for christmas is you_ since that’s all i’m hearing these days. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. thanks for reading! ♥

She almost topples over when the door slams shut.

“Can I just say I’m never volunteering for shovelling snow ever again?” Barry sheds his thick coat, throwing it over the back of a chair in their kitchen. He stops to shake his head dramatically, freeing the strands from the snow flakes.

Lowering herself from her little step, Iris remains standing by the Christmas tree, hand still raised as though she can reach the top with only her legs.

“Did the Flash regret helping the community out?” she asks, trying to stifle her amusement. When Barry looks at her with a tired pout, she laughs. “Oh, poor baby. You know the city loves it when you shovel their snow.” Lowering her arm, she crosses them against her chest as she turns to fully look at him. “How’d the suit hold up?“

“I have to remind Cisco to make it snow-proof. You’d think that thing would keep me warm, but it didn’t!” He shakes his head, a little to enthusiastically. 

He strides towards her slowly, as though he’s trying to play it cool. Iris keeps her eye on him, distrusting of why his hands are held behind his back.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” He presses a hand against his chest as he feigns confusion, pressing his lips together and asking, “Me? I’m doing nothing. I’m just approaching my wife. Is that not okay?“ 

Iris narrows her eyes. “No,” she says, watching how his expression blooms into actual surprise. “It’s not okay.”

Standing before her, he looks down at her. His smile blossoms into something cheeky, commanding butterflies to expand their wings in her chest. Then his gaze moves up toward the tree with the cutest furrow to his brow. She can’t help but follow his gaze, even though she already knows what he’s looking at.

Their Christmas tree almost brightens up the loft without the help of their lamps and lights. She’s decorated it in the Flash colours — red, gold, some oranges thrown in, too — with baubles, tinsel, and little cardboard cutouts of various shapes. It’s how they used to decorate their tree when they were kids. Sitting for hours at the kitchen table, they’d draw, cut, and hole-punch their paper decorations before threading string through it and hanging them off a chosen branch of the tree.

She doesn’t know why she’d thought of it now. It’s a tradition that’s been long forgotten ever since they were teenagers. 

“You decorated the tree,” he says with a soft smile. He looks up at it in awe.

“It’s nothing special,” she says immediately. Brushing her hand against her temple, Iris looks up at him then the tree before shrugging. “Do you remember we used to do that?”

He’s reached out to touch her poor attempt at a Christmas tree. He nods his head, still smiling softly. “Yeah,” he says gently. “I do.” When he looks at her again, she feels tempted to press her fingers into the corners of his lips, as if to see if that’ll stop his smile from brightening his face. “I could’ve helped you.”

Looking away from him in sudden shyness, she shrugs one shoulder. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Barry’s hand is warm around her waist. “I’m surprised,” he says. “I’m very surprised.”

Iris smiles up at him, stepping closer to him. “Maybe you can help me put the ornament on the top of the tree?” Speed rivalling that of the Flash, Iris shows him what’s in her hand.

“You’re kidding,” Barry says in awe. He reaches out to touch it, but his fingers barely brush against it. She wonders if he’s trying to discern if it’s real.

Instead of their angel to sit on the top of the tree, Iris had scoured all the Flash fanatics in the city and beyond to find a Flash to take the mantel. She’d found one on Twitter with an iron tight positive reputation. She was a fanatic who liked to create her own Flash merchandise. Iris had tried her best to not give into the desire to buy every Flash figurine she’d created. A POP figurine and a tree topping ornament was good enough for now.

“Can you do the honours?” She hands him the ornament to take. “I’m not tall enough.”

Barry shakes his head. Without a word, he takes it from her and steps closer, arm brushing against her own. She takes quiet pleasure in the fact he has to stand on the tips of his toes to reach the top of the tree. When he places Flash on there, it looks like he’s at home.

She takes a big step back with him to gaze up at the tree. 

“I can’t believe you did this,” he says, still looking up at the tree. She watches his eyes follow the trail of tinsel, then become distracted by the glowing red lights she’d wrapped around it. Christmas tree decorating was never quite her strong suit growing up, but she thinks she’s pulled off trying to mimic Joe West pretty damn well.

Barry’s arm snakes around her shoulders, his other hand easily fitting against her hip. Iris feels the temptation to stand on the tips of her toes, but she remains flat on the ground, wanting him to lean down toward her. 

The hand on her hip disappears. She follows its movement upward to find him holding a twig of mistletoe. 

“You are unbelievable,” she says with a roll of her eyes. After spending the last few days avoiding being in the same room as Barry in fear of being caught by mistletoe, she’s failed in her quest to remain curse-free. It’s a game they’d begun to play, one she always knew she’d lose.

“Did you know I avoided the kitchen because I was afraid you’d put it all over there?”

Barry chuckles. “I have my ‘kiss the chef’ apron for that.”

Iris loops her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. Stepping on his shoes, she leans up, curling her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “Well, Barry Allen,” she murmurs. “You better kiss me, or face the mistletoe curse.”

He leans down, his lips almost brushing against hers. “I wouldn’t want the mistletoe curse,” he says, shaking his head slightly. Pressing upward, she feels his hand return to her waist, his other pressing against the small of her back to draw her closer to him. 

She opens her mouth beneath his, humming at the warmth of his hand vibrating ever so softly against the small of her back. When he pulls back, her arms are still tightly locked around his neck. “I think we should kiss again. To make sure you’re safe from the curse.”

Barry nods. “Good idea,” he says, leaning down to kiss her again. Before she can even think to respond, he pulls back slightly. “I think we should definitely make sure we’re not cursed.”

With an arm snaking beneath her, he pulls her up against him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, her hands grip at his back. She hums affirmatively, trying her best not to smile. “I think that’s a good idea, Mr Allen.”

“I’m glad you agree, Mrs West-Allen,” he says. He kisses the corner of her lips quickly, then shifts her against him. He drops the mistletoe onto the floor as he carries her to their bedroom.


End file.
